


5 Times Skye Touches Coulson's Stuff (and 1 Time She Touches Him)

by RowboatCop



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Coulson and his ridiculous crush on Skye, Coulson is protective of his stuff, Coulson wants Skye to be comfortable, Coulson's collections are important to him, F/M, Flirting, Scars, Skye moving into Coulson's space, UST, but he doesn't mind sharing, or letting Skye touch Lola, season 1 fic, watch it happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 04:24:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2637956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/pseuds/RowboatCop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season One Fic. Canon-compliant. Scenes around key Skoulson episodes in which Skye gets comfortable in Coulson's space and with Coulson's stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Times Skye Touches Coulson's Stuff (and 1 Time She Touches Him)

**Author's Note:**

> I labeled each of the scenes with it's episode placement because I realized that my scant context clues might have been not enough for someone who hadn't watched it 17 times. So I hope that's not distracting.

1\. (After 1x04 ‘Eye Spy’)

  


"So what's this?"

She had come into his office almost awkwardly, like she wasn’t sure she was allowed. He had been certain, at first, that she had something she needed to tell him — something big. (Had worried for a minute that she wanted to leave the Bus.)

Instead, she’d turned her attention to his “really old stuff,” and started asking questions that seemed like a distraction. But he doesn’t mind, not really. She had invited him into her claimed space in the SUV yesterday, and he feels he can return the favor. Plus, he enjoys being close to her.

"An original mint condition Captain America action figure.”

"Have you had it since you were a kid?"

"No. I didn't start collecting until I was older."

"But you always loved Cap?"

Her finger runs across the box, and he winces, waits for something to fall or tear or break.

Nothing does.

"Yeah." He leans back in his chair and watches as she lifts her fingers away. She looks almost sad — silently apologizing for touching something he doesn't want her to — and he frowns. "He's a symbol of fighting for the right thing."

"I like that. Putting the right thing above everything else."

Her fingers hover over the box, touching without touching. It’s like she’s retreating — it’s physical, but it’s also something else, something in the way she carries herself that gets _smaller_. Like she’s used to feeling like a guest, used to feeling like she’s not allowed to touch, used to feeling like she’s not allowed to take up space.

Which, of course.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she says, then. And she says it with a smile, giving him no reason to think there’s a problem. Except that he feels a physical ache at the idea that she’s uncomfortable here.

“Skye,” he calls her back, and she turns to look at him expectantly, but doesn’t step back towards him. “Didn’t you… Did you need to tell me something?”

She gets a _look_ , the kind of look that means there’s something big she’s not telling him, but then she smiles at him. And if you hadn’t seen the look, if you hadn’t been watching Skye, you wouldn’t know that the smile isn’t quite real.

“It wasn’t important.”

He doesn’t know if it’s a lie, or if she thinks it just won’t be important _to him_ , but he sinks back in his chair and feels something like failure as he watches her go.

  


2\. (After 1x07 ‘The Hub’)

  


"So, why do you have this?"

Skye picks up the scale model of the Bus, and he almost manages not to wince.

She sees it, though, and quickly sets the model Bus back down, careful to get it exactly right. He clenches his jaw because he’s trying to make Skye feel comfortable and can’t seem to do it right.

Her face would never let you know that he’s made her feel bad, which just makes it worse.

He clears his throat, tries to pretend that nothing awkward has happened here.

“I made it.”

“You made a custom model of the airplane we’re on?”

Her smile is somewhere between amused and patronizing, and he feels almost offended before her whole face softens into an interested smile.

“How did you even have time to do that?”

“I had a lot of time off,” he reminds her, and she nods, takes half a second to look sorry that she brought it up. He watches her twist the metal band around her wrist — it’s become a nervous habit for her so quickly — before she reaches out and touches the model again.

Her fingers are gentle, smoothing down the top line of the tiny Bus, and she smiles like it’s something secret.

“Did you build models when you were a kid?”

She’s still touching it, his model Bus, and she looks at him from under her eyelashes, asking her question and also maybe asking whether its okay for her to touch.

He nods.

“It was a hobby. By the time I was in high school, I couldn’t afford the nice kits anymore, so I learned to make my own.”

“That’s sort of impressive.”

“Thanks.”

He’s slightly embarrassed about it — no one has ever really questioned him on this before. Even May, who used to tease him mercilessly about collecting, never asked about the model building.

He watches her fingers glide across the wings, feather-light touches that are about admiring the careful seams and the paint. Her fingers are long and delicate, gentle as she caresses it, this thing that he had poured so many hours into. Watching is hypnotic, and when she draws her hand away, he’s almost disappointed.

“I wanted to ask you about something.” She reaches down and pulls up a tablet, flicks her fingers across the screen before pulling up a SHIELD manual.

“You have a protocol question? Should you be addressing that with your SO?”

“Oh, I can. I just figured —”

“I don’t mind.” He’s frustrated with himself again, like he can’t quite give her the right message. “I’m happy to talk about whatever you want. I just want to make sure that…”

“It’s fine,” she answers, brushing off his inquiry. “See, this isn’t really a Ward kind of question. It’s an AC kind of question.”

And doesn’t he just love the sound of that too much?

“Sure.”

She curls into the more comfortable armchair across from his desk and he leans backwards in his own chair as she starts a debate about some of the more finicky points of SHIELD regulation. It’s challenging — her questions force him to acknowledge the ways she’s already seen him break these rules — but he can’t help but feel that she could be _so_ good at this one day.

  


3\. (After 1x09 ‘Repairs’)

  


“Did you at least talk to Fitz about fixing this?”

They’re working in his office again — Skye is truly comfortable here, now — and she picks up the transceiver watch that he’d had to blow up a few days ago.

“Nah.” He shakes his head, but watches as she holds the device in her palm, runs a finger over the face as though it still has value. “It wouldn’t be authentic anymore if I did that.”

“But maybe it would be _better_?”

Coulson just raises an eyebrow at her in disbelief.

“I mean, why does being authentic have to be everything? Doesn’t it count for something if you have it working?”

“You just don’t understand collecting.”

“Well, no,” she admits. “I understand holding onto something for sentimental value, but I don’t understand the sentimental value evaporating because you had to fix it. It seems like it grows. Like, it’s still the thing it was, but now it’s something more, too.”

He smiles at that, sort of charmed by her analysis.

“Maybe you’re right.”

“I went to an exhibit in LA about this Japanese artform where you repair the cracks in pottery with precious metals. You highlight the damage and it becomes a new source of beauty.”

“That’s a nice thought,” he admits.

“Yeah. It means that when something gets broken and repaired, it gains value instead of losing it.”

Her finger pauses over the tiny hole in the back of the device and Coulson can’t stop a hand from resting on his chest, over his scar. He swallows back _something_ , he’s not sure what, and lowers his hand back to his desk.

Skye sets the watch down gently and picks up her tablet.

  


4\. (Pre 1x13 T.R.A.C.K.S.)

  


Coulson walks into his office to see Skye sliding a book back onto his shelf.

“What are you reading?”

Skye jumps, as though she’s done something wrong, and Coulson frowns because he really thought they were past this.

“I just borrowed this,” she answers, sliding _Captain America and the Howling  Commandos_ back off the shelf.

"Ward has you reading Howling Commando history?"

"No," she shakes her head and slides the book back into place.  "I saw it on your shelf last week and I just wanted to know more. Sorry I didn’t ask.”

“I don’t mind,” he answers, shaking his head. “You can feel free to borrow whatever you’d like.”

Skye smiles at him, and he finds himself walking towards her instead of towards his desk.

“I was curious about Steve Rogers,” she admits. “He's pretty remarkable."

"Yes.” He’s probably too adamant about that and Skye grins at him.

"I never really got it before, you know? It's so easy to see Captain America and think that he'd fight for whatever regime happened to be in power..."

"But that's not Steve."

"No," she agrees.

"He stands for helping the little guy. Taking down bullies."

"Speaking truth to power," she suggests, and Coulson nods.

"He has never been afraid to tell Nick Fury what he really thought."

"You'd think Fury would hate that."

"No," Coulson answers. "The person who will always have your back... That's an important person. But the one that will tell you when you're doing the wrong thing... That's an invaluable person."

"Someone you trust to make a moral call, and not just to back you up."

"Yeah. That's what Captain America stands for."

Skye smiles and traces her finger over the spine of the book.

"I like that." She says it like she's admitting a dark secret.

"You would," he answers. "You're so much like him."

She raises an eyebrow, and he thinks she’s biting back a flattered smile, waiting to see if he means it.

"When he was young, he had a hard time. It defined him. It made him the kind of person who always looks out for the little guy. Like you."

"They're not going to make merchandise with my face on it, though." She deflects his comment, barely even acknowledges him.

"They could. I'd buy it."

She swallows, and he has a moment where he fears she's going to crawl inside herself in embarrassment.

"You're not exactly selective, AC," she suggests, running her eyes over his wide selection of memorabilia.

"Sure I am. I only collect things that matter to me."

Their eyes lock, and Skye sways imperceptibly towards him. Her lips part invitingly and her eyes drift down to his lips — he’s almost certain that she’s going to kiss him, and he’s almost certain that he wouldn’t stop her. But then she seems to catch herself.

“I, um,” she swallows and steps backwards towards the bookshelf, trapping herself.

He thinks for a few seconds about stepping forward, about pushing this moment, about taking the initiative to kiss her but he doesn’t. He wouldn’t.

“I might have a lead on Quinn,” she finally tells him, and he steps backwards towards his desk.

“Good. That’s good.”

Skye mirrors her screen onto the big one on the wall, and together they look over what she’s found.

  


5\. (after 1x14 TAHITI)

  


“Hey,” Skye greets him as he steps back into the med chamber after leaving for just long enough to grab a shower. She’s alive and vibrant and smiling, and he forgets — for a moment — about the horrible reason that she has recovered. He allows himself to feel grateful and joyful that she’s still here, even though it’s horribly selfish. All he knew, all he can think of now, is that he isn’t ready to lose her.

“Hi.”

“You look better,” she teases him as she takes in his damp hair and clean, unwrinkled suit.

Coulson smiles, too flirty and happy and open, but he’s _so relieved_ to hear her talking, to hear her sounding like Skye.

“That should be my line.”

“Simmons told me that you sat down here with me for the whole time I was out.”

He nods, once, and the flirtiness falls away under the seriousness of the memory of Skye dying in his arms. Skye dying in that tube. Skye dying in that bed.

“She also told me that you’d have answers about what saved me.”

Coulson swallows, feels the blood rush away from his face so that he feels momentarily dizzy.

“Not yet,” he manages to answer. “I need to go see if I can find some, though.”

“So you’re leaving?”

“Yeah. I wanted to give you something before I do, though.”

“A present?” She sounds so young and excited for a moment, and Coulson shakes his head.

“Not exactly.”

He holds up the bag in his right hand, which contains several spiral-bound notebooks filled with the notes of a twenty-year-old Phil Coulson.

“You brought me…” Skye thumbs through one of the notebooks, “your class notes?”

He nods, but before he can explain, Skye stops on one of the pages and seems to get it.

“You brought me your notes for the SHIELD level one exam.” Her finger traces across the top of the page, where she’s found his careful label.

“Yes.”

“Because you’re going to let me take it soon?” Her grin takes over her whole face, and Coulson steps towards the bed and sits back down in the chair he’s occupied for most of the last two days.

“Your SO is allowed to proctor an exam after one year of training or when you’ve displayed your competency.”

“And getting shot shows my competency?”

Coulson shakes his head and dips his eyes down to her stomach, covered by the hospital gown.

“Ward and I have been discussing it since you rescued me.”

Skye grins widely at his use of _rescue_ , and then frowns.

“Ward doesn’t want to give me the test does he? He wants to protect me from dangerous SHIELD missions, I bet.” She rolls her eyes, but Coulson can see how much she likes it that so many people care about her well-being, even if Ward’s protectiveness rubs her wrong.

“He’s going to give you the test as soon as you’re up for it,” Coulson tells her, earning him another wide grin before her eyes turn back down to the notebook across her legs. He watches as her fingers run over the pages, tracing letters and diagrams here and there.

“I can't believe you highlighted your own notes.” She laughs as she scans through his neat handwriting, highlighting, and extra marginalia. “Young Phil was a total dork, wasn’t he?”

“Don’t make me regret sharing,” he answers, forcing a frown at her.

“It’s no shame. I’ve always liked dorks.”

“Good thing for me, then.” His lips curve into a grin, and when Skye meets his eyes her eyebrows raise knowingly. “I would have liked you, if I had met you back then.”

He’s not sure why he says it; it’s massively inappropriate to be openly wishing that he had met Skye closer to an age when they might have…

“No,” she corrects him with a smile. “This guy,” and she holds up a page of his notebook on which he had reproduced and annotated the SHIELD chain of command, “would have thought I was too outside the box. A risk. A rule breaker.” She skims through the pages carefully before looking back up. “I’m sure you were great back then, but I’m glad I met _this_ you.”

He doesn’t even know what to say to that because the truth is that she isn’t wrong. And the truth is that his younger self would have _loved_ her, but he had been so concerned at that age – had been so concerned for most of his life, really – with following the rules. With making Nick Fury proud. He likely would have kept his distance for all the reasons she’s mentioned.

“Me, too,” he answers, honestly.

“Thank you for this,” she says, her voice solemn and serious as she looks at him.

“You earned the right to take this test, Skye, you have nothing to thank me for.”

“You believed in me. Even when you probably shouldn't have. And..." Skye's eyes are large and wet and sweet as she looks at him. "Not very many people have done that, is all.”

His nose and eyes burn like he might _cry_ , and he blinks it back.

“Plus, you saved my life.”

“Don’t thank me for that,” he tells her, his voice breaking on the plea. “Not until we know…”

Skye cuts him off by reaching over and squeezing her hand gently around his.

“Then go find out what you need to know so I can thank you.”

Coulson nods once and turns his hand under hers so he can squeeze back.

“I’ll see you in a few days. Study hard.”

“I will.”

  


6\. (post 1x15 ‘Yes Men’)

  


“Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Simmons cleared me for work, and this is _hardly_ work anyways.”

Skye is lounging in her chair — and it has become _her chair_ — scanning through his medical records and everything else he’s collected about what happened to him.

“I just don’t want you to overwork yourself.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” she tells him, more than a little annoyed, and he knows she’s been having this same argument with Simmons for the past week.

“I know.”

She finally looks up at him and her brow furrows as she takes in his tank and shorts.

“What are you wearing?”

“Workout clothes,” he answers, his voice laced with _duh_.

“Why do I never see you in workout clothes?”

“You’re rarely in my office at five thirty in the morning,” he answers, and Skye glances down at her tablet.

“Oh, I guess I’ve been sleeping weird. I didn’t even think. Do you need me to —”

“You’re fine,” he answers, although he’s suddenly self-conscious about being sweaty and relatively uncovered in front of Skye. “I’m just going to go shower.”

It’s honestly never occurred to him to be bothered by the way that his office and his bedroom connect, around a corner and without a door, until he contemplates walking back there to undress.

“Do you want me to leave?” Skye must be able to sense his discomfort, and he tries to pull himself into line. Letting her know that he’s uncomfortable with her presence opens too much of a discussion about the inappropriate reasons why he’s uncomfortable with her presence.

“You’re fine,” he answers, and then heads back around the corner. He waits about ten seconds, during which he doesn’t hear Skye so much as shift in her chair, before he pulls off his sweaty clothes and dumps them in the laundry chute.

His shower is quick and cool and efficient, no different from a normal day, and then he walks back into his bedroom to choose a suit — again, no different from a normal day. He’s so busy telling himself how normal everything is, though, that he runs his right foot into the side of his bed, smashing his toes.

“ _Dammit_ ,” he half-yells, and is mortified when Skye immediately comes dashing into the room

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

Coulson swallows and slowly raises his eyes to look at her. He watches her eyes drag down his body — bare except for the towel wrapped around his waist — before resting on his chest.

He considers covering up his scar, but before he can, Skye has taken a few steps across the room and come close enough to touch it. She reaches her hand out and lays it on his chest, just to the left of his scar, before she seems to think better of herself.

“Can I?”

He meets her eyes and feels his entire world shrink to just her presence in front of him.

“Skye,” he sighs her name, in place of an answer, which she seems to take as a 'no.' When she goes to pull back her hand, though, he lays his own on top of it. Together, they slide their hands across his chest so that her palm rests over his scar.

“It won’t ever go away, will it?” She sounds almost sad, and Coulson shakes his head in the negative as he watches her left hand drift down and rest over her belly where she was shot.

He reaches forward then and brushes her hand aside in order to lay his own larger, warmer hand across the site of her injury, on top of her t-shirt.

“No,” he answers, honestly.

“I guess bikinis are out, then,” she jokes, and Coulson smiles at her.

“That’s what Natasha Romanoff said when she was shot in the abdomen some time ago.”

Skye smiles, perhaps flattered at being compared to the Black Widow, and flexes her fingers against his chest. There’s not much feeling in the scar tissue, of course, but the area around — the place where her fingers move — is hypersensitive, filled with nerve endings that tingle at the merest brush. He feels it in his whole body as she touches him, and it makes him feel _warm_.

He doesn’t know what possesses him, but he slips his hand down and under her t-shirt just to run back up the bare skin of her stomach and lay his hand across the two gunshot wounds, skin to skin.

“Okay?”

She nods, and Coulson takes a moment to appreciate the softness of her skin under his hand. The rough scar tissue — so quickly, so unnaturally formed — serves as a counterpoint to the softness of her skin.

Before he has a chance to think too much about her skin and about other places he would like to touch her skin, Skye uses the tip of her index finger to trace the area around the scar, which prompts Coulson to drag his own fingertips across her belly.

His whole chest tingles under her touch, almost more intense that he can stand, but all he can focus on is the gooseflesh on her stomach and the way her muscles tense under his hand.

He’s surprised, though, when Skye steps closer — too close for his hand to fit between them. Instead, he slips his arm around her back and holds her body to his as she leans forward and places a soft kiss on his scar, just to the right of their hands.

“ _Skye_ ,” he moans her name, not sure if he’s aroused or just _touched_.

And then she pulls away. He thinks she looks unsure of herself for half a second before she smiles reassuringly and smooths a hand down the front of her shirt.

“You should probably get dressed,” she teases him as she turns and walks out of his room, leaving him alone, staring after her, in nothing but a towel.

In the other room, he hears her shuffle some stuff around, and then the sound of Coltrane from his record player as Skye makes herself at home. It makes him smile as he throws on a suit and steps into his office, glad to have her back.

 


End file.
